


you are my sunshine

by BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch



Series: Together, Always [3]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Memories, Flashbacks, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Hurt No Comfort, Misgendering, Sad Ending, Singing, Tell me if I need to tag any more, technically child abuse??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22943563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch/pseuds/BuiltUpWithCatsAndTeaToMatch
Summary: Alone and stuck in a tower, a reincarnated Angel of Death sings to their saviour.( part one of the sanders sides bingo : virgil angst )
Series: Together, Always [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634137
Kudos: 22





	you are my sunshine

The tower is cold and hard, made of stone. It’s round, slab on slab piling up until it’s twenty feet above the ground below. The door to leave is locked tight from the outside, the only escape. There’s a soft feather bed on the wall, along with banners and paintings of who they are - or who they’re supposed to be.

_”Why are they looking at me like that?”_

_They walk down the hall, tiny fingers grabbing tightly onto their current leader’s big hand. It’s their first time out of the tower, and everyone seems to stop and stare in wonder and shock._

_”Why, that’s an easy question, Grymm” the person responds steadily. Grymm. It was a name they were using for the sake of not having to labor over trying to continually refer to the four year old as Angel of Death._

_”You’re the Angel of Death, a saviour among our world. You’re going to fix us, to make the world perfect again. That’s why you’re here, and why we keep you so safe.”_

Grymm learns that _safe_ means _prison_. 

_”What do you like most about your room?”_

_They sit on a fluffy couch in a colourful room. There’s lots of toys there, but they’re not allowed to touch any of them. They’re supposed to sit ‘prim and proper’ as they put it. Grymm just wants to play._

_”The window” they try to fight off an urge to exclaim it. The caretakers say emotion is bad. They need to have a steady voice constantly. Something about their future as the world’s dominator, or something._

_The woman sits across from them, her long horns curling all over with loops and knots, thick, bouncy brown curls falling over their cracked flesh. Their dark mouth is filled with fangs, and she holds her pens with sharp fingernails that could probably slit someone’s throat.  
_

_Speaking of the pen, they draw its ink smoothly over their parchment, nodding. “And why’s that?”_

_”Well, it feels freeing, like I could leap out and-”_

_“Fly?” She interrupts._

_They pause. “Well, kind of yeah, more like-“_

_”I’ll inform the others. This was a great session, young Angel, you may go back to your room now. I’ll have the guard guide you.”_

_”But-“_

_She’s already gone._

They lean outside the window, tapping their fingers against the stone slabs they can reach, almost lazily. The height is a little dizzying, but they’ve gotten used to it. 

_They remember the first time they heard music._

_”What’s that?” They tug on the hand of their caretaker._

_”What’s what?” Their leader asks._

_They point to the scene, where species of all kinds are dancing and singing, a bunch of people standing on a higher platform striking their fingers and blowing into wonderful things that make beautiful noises._

_”That’s a distraction. No world dominator spends their days dancing at places like that. Come on, Angel, we’re going to be late.”_

But the castle is so silent, and everyday they can’t help but long to be in the crowd, laughing and dancing along to the sweet tune.

A distraction would be nice.

_They remember their favourite song._

_They’d managed to creep off from their caretakers, allowed to wander a bit in the vast garden of the leader of Glensvulle.  
_

_It was a mother Pario, with her son. They sat on a red-white checkered blanket over the moor beside the garden gates. The two serpentine creatures looking so joyful and peaceful, the mother’s thick, forked scaled tail wrapped around her son’s, the ring of planet-like bulbs drifting around their heads seeming to glow. She was singing to him, crafting a neat flower crown into his braided hair with her long fingers._

_They got to listen to it fully, and got to watch the son marvel over his mother’s work before he threw his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek before a hand tightened over the back of their_ _collar, and they were punished for distractions._

_They long for distractions._

They sing the one song they know everyday in their tower, hoping maybe someday somebody will climb up the towers walls and take them in, rescuing them from their life of lonesome.

” _You are my sunshine..._ ”

They hope their voice reaches farther than their lonesome tower.

” _My only sunshine..._ ”

” _You make me happy,_ ”

” _When skies are grey_ ”

They hope they’ll find someone to make them happy on rainy days someday. Whenever it rains at the tower the window gets closed so they don’t get sick. Then it’s only a matter of time before they begin to suffocate and someone comes in and drags them out.

They wonder if someday no one will come, and they’ll be left to suffocate in the walls of their prison.

” _You’ll never know, dear,_ ”

” _How much I love you..._ ”

They hope they live long enough to see the day someone will come and love them, and they can love them right back.

_”They’re not ready.”_

_It’s the whispered conversation outside their door that wakes them._

_”Well, make them ready. War is brewing on the southern side of Dexzher, if she isn’t ready soon, this world is going to fall.”_

_Its the word she that jolts them into full awakening, the word alone sending pain crawling down their chest, skin beginning to squirm with dysphoria. They wished they could go to sleep and not hear the words she or her again._

_”Soon, milord, soon. It’s just going to be a bit longer-“_

_”How much?” The voice raises on the other side, biting with impatience. “You’ve been saying that to me for the past fourteen years. I want a direct answer._ **_When?_ ** _”_

_The voice stammers hurriedly on the other side. “We don’t quite know. She still needs a lot more training in order to at least become a diplomat.”_

_Their skin crawls, and their fingers curl around their soft bedsheets._

_”Then up it. Push the training. Push her harder. If we don’t get her to be at least a diplomat soon, the world is going to fall. You don’t want the blood of innocent women and children in your hands, do you?”_

_The voice cracks as it speaks. “No, sir. We’ll up the training immediately.”_

_”Immediately“ the commanding voice emphasizes._

_”Immediately” the other confirms._

_Life got a whole lot harder after that talk._

They lift their head to the sky. They wish they didn’t have to be a diplomat. They wish they weren’t the Angel of Death. They wished they weren’t supposed to be a girl.

They just wanted to be... them.

” _Please don’t take..._ ”

But that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“ _My sunshine..._ ”

But at least they had a song to sing in the dark of it all.

” _Away...._ ”


End file.
